Forget Me Nots
by Sariii
Summary: Harry deals with Ginny's strange behavior as they hide from the rest of the world.


**Disclaimer:** I just write the fanfics, J.K. Rowling writes the story.

**Summary: **

He waited for her counter, the way they had furiously argued with each other for the past years. It was like a duel now, she'd make her move, and then he would return it. Any moment now, she would yell at him.

But she never did.

Harry deals with Ginny's strange behavior as they hide from the rest of the world.

**The 2nd LJ Fic-a-Fest Challenge (Number 36):**

Ginny and Harry are living in Grimmauld Place as the war still goes on, as it is the only safe place for them anymore. Tensions rise, and as Harry tries to keep his distance, Ginny won't let him, and finally there is the "big blowup" that reveals their feelings about everything.

---

Harry sighed as he rested his forehead on the windowpane, feeling the cold glass. It was raining now; not pouring or drizzling, just raining like it would in the springtime. It was _raining_ for the _bloody_ fourth time this week, and it made him feel more and more caged up in this bloody house.

"Harry?" a voice quietly spoke. "Feeling okay?"

He didn't move from his spot near the window, but said, "I'm fine."

The voice didn't speak for a few minutes, and then she tried again, "Don't do that, Harry, you know I hate it."

At the moment, Harry really didn't care what Ginny wanted. He knew it was selfish of him, but this house, and everything in it, was full of memories he'd rather forget. And being stuck in it for three years didn't do much but add to the tension. He wanted to fight, he wanted to get it over with, and as much as he hated to admit that Dumbledore was right, being placed under _Fidelius_ with _Ginny Weasley,_ of all people, was not his idea of being protected.

There was nothing wrong with Ginny, nothing at all. After all, she'd been there for him since fifth year, and he appreciated her just as much as Ron and Hermione. Yet there were times when she was so irritating—how could she feel _fine_, when Number 12 Grimmauld Place was their _home_ for the next year or two, when it was supposed to be Sirius' house, when they couldn't even leave the porch.

He brushed away his feelings of contempt, and slowly sat next to her on the couch.

"I hate it here," he said.

Ginny offered a smile. "We both do, then."

"No," he said, with annoyance, "I want to go out there, not stay in hiding like some coward!"

Ginny looked at him suddenly, closing the book she had been reading closed. Harry saw her hands clenched around it, her knuckles turning white.

"Your father was never a coward, Harry. Please don't forget that."

"I never forgot! How 'bout you? Did _you_ forget that Sirius is dead or that Dumbledore has turned this house into a prison?"

He waited for her counter argument; the way they had furiously battled with each other over the past several years. It was a familiar duel now, she'd make her move, and then he would counter it. Any moment now, she would yell at him.

But she never did.

Ginny was looking at him now, in a strange way, like studying a puzzle, trying to decide where to begin. She met his eyes, and nodded twice, before looking away and heading upstairs to her room.

---

"I wonder where they are," she said, quietly, still looking over her album.

"Who?" he asked curiously. Ginny always did that. She would speak softly, never saying things outright, always waiting for him to question her.

"Everyone. Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones… Where are they? What could they be doing now?"

"Oh," he replied, his voice sounding a bit odd. "I… didn't really think much about them… I was wondering about the war."

"You mustn't forget about them, Harry. They're your friends; they give you strength."

Harry nodded, cursing inwardly for forgetting them, of all people. He had been worried a week before, just before he had fallen asleep: whether Ron and Hermione had kids, how Neville was doing as an Auror, how Luna was helping the Ministry. But this week, they had received updates on the war. Neither side was emerging victorious, so far. Harry didn't know what to make of that.

"Cho Chang and Michael Corner."

He looked up, "What?"

"Cho and Michael. They're our friends too, right?"

Harry looked at her strangely. "He dumped you in your fourth year."

Ginny laughed. "That doesn't mean we aren't friends. And technically, you and Cho never dated, so you don't really have any excuse."

Ginny paused, and smiled softly, "We're using the Fidelius Charm, hiding in the most obvious place, protected by the most useless security. Thankfully, most of the paintings are, at least, _loyal_ to The Order… Rather odd, isn't it?"

He made no reply, but looked at her for some time. Ginny noticed his stare.

"How many pictures do you have?" he asked, gesturing to the album.

"Lots. Most of them are of us at the Burrow, but there are some from school. Here, take a look."

"Of you and me, or all of us?"

Ginny smiled but made no reply, motioning him to come closer.

He sat next to her on the floor in front of the sofa.

The Burrow was exactly as he remembered—with tall grasses full of gnomes. They had set up a picnic for Harry's birthday, and, he saw, they were all laughing. Bill and Charlie had come, and Ginny smothered their faces in chocolate cake--literally. Mrs. Weasley had fiercely rebuked her daughter, and Harry remembered she'd had a smudge of frosting on her nose at the time. There were other photographs, mostly of Harry and his friends, but no more with Ginny, at least, not directly. She was in the background a lot, but she was never near Harry.

"Why aren't you in any of the pictures?"

Ginny looked surprised at the question. "Of course I'm here," she said, pointing to a certain Muggle photograph, where Harry was flying. There was a speck in the background. "See? I'm right there."

He shook his head. "How come you're not near me?"

She looked at him, her face expressionless. "Do you want me to be near you?"

"What are you talking about?"

She shook her head, looking at the photograph. "I'm not there because I don't need to be. I know that I… I don't need to forget…who I am."

"You're not making any sense," he said, exasperated, "Hell, you never make any sense! Not since the day we got here!"

Her temper took hold once more, and Ginny replied haughtily, "You haven't either!"

"At least I had a reason!"

"Like what?"

"Sirius _died_, Ginny. My _godfather _died. How do you think I felt?"

"Sirius _died_, Harry. My _friend_, whom I was just beginning to know, died. How do you think _I _felt?"

His throat was dry, and he felt anger deep inside the pit of his stomach. He wanted to scream at her even more, even _slap _her.

Ginny took no notice. "And to make things worse, one of the people I loved the most was mourning Sirius' death, acting like he wanted to die!"

Harry found his voice, yelling, "Remus considered Sirius his best friend, Ginny! Or are you too cold-hearted to know that?"

Ginny raised her arm to slap him, and he winced slightly, but never took his eyes off her, nor made a move to step back. And just as her hand reached past his shoulder, she stopped.

Harry looked at her, shoulders tense, watching her expressionless face; he could tell it was an effort. Ginny stared at him, and as she slowly lowered her arm, Harry could see her face twist into a look of utter sorrow and hurt. He saw her bite her lower lip, and he was sure there were tears in her eyes. His Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed, and he was suddenly afraid—of her. Ginny continued to stare at him with that same face, and he realized Ginny had let her guard down; she had stripped herself of everything, save for that one emotion, bare for Harry to see this one time.

Suddenly, Ginny seemed to regain control of herself and gave him one last look, before going back to her room, the album still open on the floor.

---

It was winter now, and three days from now would be Christmas Eve. After their argument last week, neither Harry nor Ginny spoke to each other; whereas, Harry reflected, usually Ginny was the one who always had something to talk about. They would eat at different times, and spend the rest of the day in their rooms. Harry had found it quite unnerving and had come to miss her presence.

He was drinking hot chocolate. It was two in the morning and yet, he had no desire to sleep. Something was bothering him, and he desperately wished to know what it was.

He heard the creak of stairs and felt the kitchen light sting his eyes. He heard a small cry of surprise, and as his eyes adjusted, saw Ginny put her hand over her mouth in surprise, her white nightgown reaching halfway past her knees.

"Ginny!" he exclaimed in surprise. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Shouldn't you be going to bed?" she remarked indifferently. "I… came for some hot chocolate. I couldn't sleep."

He gestured toward a kettle. "I made enough for two." Ginny gratefully accepted a cup, and poured herself some of the liquid. They sipped in silence, both not knowing what to say to each other.

"It's good," said Ginny, somewhat lamely. Harry nodded a reply.

"Hey, Ginny, listen… About the fight last week, I just—"

"No," Ginny interrupted. "Please don't. You were right, I am cold-hearted and selfish… and I'm such an idiot, too."

"I never said all of that," Harry protested, "and you know I didn't mean it!"

"Yes you did!" she snapped back. She was about to say more, but she realized they were about to fight again.

She took a deep breath, almost whispering, "I hate it when we fight."

Harry too, drew in a deep breath, when he heard her.

"I hate it when you cut yourself off from me, like you always do, and I hate it when you think I'm still an annoying girl you just have to take care of. I hate it when you look at me as if I'm someone you want to kill…

"I tried to help; I really did…to get you to talk, to joke around. There were times where I could see the real Harry, and that helped. But after last week, I…I give up. You were so blind. How could you think that it was Remus I was worried about, Harry?

"There were times that I'd say to myself, 'Harry's never going to care… that he's never going to…going to care for Ginevra Weasley, and I've always fought that feeling, because that's what Tom said. But now…now I don't want to fight anymore...

"I hate it because you think I'm still that stupid fool with a crush on the Boy-Who-Lived, but I'm not. I'm so much more than that… And if only you'd notice… how much I loved you…

"I told you not to forget. Why we're here, who we are, what we could be… The people you love, and the people who love you… all made sacrifices. You made the most, and we all know that it hurts. But loving you is enough… loving you _was_ enough."

Harry shuddered as he heard her words, hearing deep regret in her voice. The emotion was so sorrowful, so hollow, that it frightened him deeply.

He knew now--why she was unhappy all the time. He knew why she never wanted him to forget everything, the reality of how close she had been to breaking down yesterday.

He'd suddenly realized everything, only to find that he still did not know of his feelings for her. He felt a clench in his navel, like he would when using a Portkey, but was that love or guilt?

But what she'd told him--_One of the people I loved the most was mourning Sirius' death, acting like he wanted to die!_--stuck in his mind. _One of the people I loved._

Did it mean that she _loved_ him; did she still _love_ him? And, more importantly, did _he_ love _her_?

"Ginny…" said Harry, struggling to find the words, "I—"

Ginny cut him off with a small, feigned giggle, replying, "It'll be Christmas soon. Let's not completely ruin our friendship yet, Harry. This would be the first Christmas in hiding without us fighting with each other. We should never forget it, either."

She placed her cup in the sink. "Thanks for the chocolate. I think I can sleep now."

---

"Remus!" Ginny cried out.

Harry turned around. Her hair was dishevelled, and she was wearing was an old robe around her nightgown. He looked away, keeping his eyes on Remus, feeling quite awkward.

"What are you doing here?"

"Harry asked me to do a favour, you see," Remus said. Harry could see that he looked much older than he was. Already his hair was white, his forehead lined with wrinkles.

"Any news?" Harry asked.

"None other than what I told you, Harry."

Harry felt Ginny's eyes on him.

"Well," she declared, "I might as well change, hmm? Be safe, Remus, please."

"Your Secret Keeper will never fail you, Ginny," Remus assured her.

As soon as she left, Remus turned toward Harry. "Is everything all right between you two?"

Harry made no reply.

Remus sighed. "Harry," he began, "more than ever, I wish your father was here. And Lily would know more about you and Ginny. But… even though I'm not James, or Sirius, I consider you my son. Whatever happens, the best advice I can give you is to follow your heart. Corny, I know, but it's the truest advice there is."

Harry smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Remus. You've always been a second father to me."

Remus nodded, smiling proudly. "Good luck."

Harry heard a loud yawn from the stairs and the silence that followed. He turned.

"Morning," he said, "it seems I beat you to Christmas!"

Ginny smiled half-heartedly. "Yes, seems like it." Harry was sitting underneath the Christmas tree they had set up three weeks before. Ginny hesitated a bit, and Harry took notice of it, although he desperately tried not to. He frightened her, and that's what hurt.

"Here," she said, pushing a rectangular gift box toward him. "Open it."

Harry looked at it uncertainly, "Ginny…"

"Don't 'Ginny' me! Open it, won't you?" He smiled uncertainly—she still had her normal temper.

So he did, slowly, trying to take it in—even after the fight, she had given him a gift. He was sure his gift wasn't under the tree two days ago.

It was a book—green with gold trimming.

_My Photo Album  
__Property of Harry James Potter  
__From Ginevra Molly Weasley_

It was blank.

"A clean slate," Ginny said, "to start over."

He bit his lip. He was sure he didn't have to thank her; Ginny already knew.

"Can… Can _we_ start over?"

Ginny looked confused. "Hmm?"

Harry fished a white, velvety box out of his pajama pocket, opening it to reveal a silver necklace with a diamond heart pendant. Ginny stared at it, her mouth slightly open.

Harry turned the pendant around to reveal the inscription.

_To my LILY._

"It was my mother's; that was what I asked from Remus, something of my mum's. I want you to have it. I want you to have my heart."

"Harry…"

"I'm sorry that I was such a prat to you. I took out my anger on you, and all you did was put up with it. And to make things worse, I didn't even know why you did it until you told me. I'm sorry, Ginny, and I want to make it up to you… every day, if you'll let me."

She was too afraid. "You'll forget me. Just like everyone else."

"Is this proof enough, then?" He pulled out a bouquet of her favourite flowers—forget-me-nots, along with rosemary. Ginny's eyes widened at the surprise, and Harry hoped that it would be enough to forgive him, even though it shouldn't have been.

Without waiting for a reply, Harry moved behind her, fastening the necklace on her. He hugged her from behind, and to his amazement, she leaned in.

He found his voice as he said, "The news that Remus gave me… he said the war was getting better; we're winning. But we need to stay for two more years…"

Ginny shifted slightly, but made no move to leave. "Two more years with you?"

"Two years here. I'll be with you forever. I won't forget."

Harry could see her smile.

"Happy Christmas, Ginny." Her smile widened.

"Happy Christmas, Harry."


End file.
